Solidarity
by EmilyHelene
Summary: She was numb, but it was better than the alternative which was aware and ready to hurt.


**Solidarity**

_a fanfiction story_

**by: EmilyHelene**

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><p><strong>Summary:<strong>_ She was numb, but it was better than the alternative which was aware and ready to hurt._

**A/N****: **Alright, I apologize so much for being on hiatus for so long but I've convinced myself to get back into writing fanfiction partly because I want to write again, partly because I feel bad for leaving so many of my stories and also partly because I don't have a lot of time and work best under pressure. You'll have to bear with me because this piece I'm returning with is rather depressing and dark; I've been going through some really difficult times right now and needed to get it out, but I hope to have more happy stuff posted in the future. _  
><em>In addition to this depressing nature of this story, it is also written in a strange timeline, from middle to beginning to end instead of the typical way. Meh, chronological order is overrated plus it works for this story. I PROMISE you that this story WILL be finished by the end of March Break and that I will try to post a new chapter every three days or so. Again, crazy schedule so bear with me.

Thanks so much for reading this long, rambling author's note (if you did bother to read it) and maybe check out some of my other stories if you get the chance, I'll try to finish them as soon as I can! Thank-you, lovelies! (:

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><p><strong>Part One: <strong>_Beneath The Surface  
><em>

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><p>That February brought with it a spine-chilling and brisk frigidity. Despite the cold conditions, she elected to stay in a place where she felt the most at home. The height of the Bushwell Plaza roof was daunting and though the structural aspects did not provide much warmth to her body, it relieved her of the numbing sensation the events of earlier had on her mind. As her body reacted to the shiver in the air as it drifted through the holes in her wool sweater with ease, dotting the skin of her arms with faint horripilation, her mind stayed fixated on small things down below.<p>

A man with a beige pea coat stood quivering on the steps below the building waiting patiently for his dog to finish relishing in the fresh air of the evening. He was likely an established man and each night after he and his dog returned inside, she felt certain that he was greeted by a loving family and a like of sanity, constant love and affection. At the same time, a little girl, seven at the most, walked along the sidewalk holding her mother's hand and smiling as exhaled, the gasp of air exploding in her face. Imagining a life for them, she saw in her mind a warm house where the two spent evenings curled up on the sofa playing board games until bedtime, a cup of hot cocoa set out for each of them. Stupid blissfully ignorant model citizens. She envied them immensely.

As vertigo began to set in, she stepped away from the edge of the building and ever so slowly rested her back against the cool brick of the roof. The fans whirred loudly as the snow fell all around her, settling in her hair. There were so many things that she wanted to feel: hurt, anguish, betrayal, but for some reason, none of them registered. It was like she was a statue. After everything that had happened, she should have felt something, right? She wasn't crazy. She felt her eyelids flutter and she knew she'd be passed out soon. Exhausted and drained, she greeted sleep quickly and was unconscious in mere minutes. As if it were a taped recording, her memories played over and over in her head.

Carly had been the one to point it out, the neat little line of cuts running up the inside of her arm. She'd been pretty sure they hadn't gone unnoticed by Frederly but at least he had the decency not to say anything about it. She'd been carrying Wednesday's newspaper around in her backpack for month, hoping that her father's arrest could be torn up and thrown away like the recycled newsprint that bore the disconcerting headline that had her world in a swell. _Local man arrested on charges of trespassing, and breaking and entering. _The words protruded from the paper like a grenade, scattering her thoughts and severely derailing every train of thought she had. It had been too much for her to handle and she had to lash out at something. She tortured and beat up the rest of the kids at her school, why not try doing unto herself what she did onto others? It was worth a shot anyway.

She wasn't even so sure what was so bad about it. It made her feel good, or at least less guilty. To be honest, it was one of those things that didn't require a lot of thought so she didn't waste her time with it. Her therapist would say it was simply just an "inappropriate coping mechanism" that proper care and an "improved level of self-esteem" would take care of but it really wasn't. Sometimes, if she was feeling particularly fantastic and drew blood she would lose herself in the grace of the cool metal on her skin and forget. Those were the best times. After Wednesday, the days all seemed to blend into each other and she started to lose track of when they began and when they finished. She was numb, but it was better than the alternative which was aware and ready to hurt.

Memories of that afternoon rushed through her brain like a racing locomotive. There was Carly's face, Freddie's reassuring arm that rubbed her back and told her it would be alright. In any other instance she would have thrown him over the couch but she just didn't have the energy anymore. Even her mom's defeated expression remained glued in her mind. Even Melanie, who didn't keep in contact much had called her to see if everything was alright. She just couldn't believe her appeared in her dreams as a shadow, looming from the back of a cell with a sad expression on it's face. As it drew closer and closer, the fear that was eating away at her intensified.

It was wrong, she shouldn't feel this way.

"You let him go, this is all your fault," her mother's words reminded her. She woke up in a cold sweat, still on the roof and tucked into a ball. She couldn't deal with it anymore. Her eyes darted around the empty roof, searching for a remedy to her pain. Her shaking hands felt along the cool pavement as a shiver sent chills down her spine. She had to find _something,_ a piece of broken glass, a metal edge, anything.

Her fingers locked around a glass shard from the roof top window and she pulled it close to her. Delicately, as if unfolding the petals of a flower, she lifted her sweatshirt out of the way. As the fragment pierced the skin, Sam looked up at the sky and imagined a different reality where she felt strong and powerful again. A world where her mother wasn't an alcoholic, her sister hadn't left her for boarding school and her father hadn't been thrown in jail. A beautiful world with all the music she could listen to and all the food she could eat.

The delirium was short-lived as the chimes of her cell-phone cut through her fantasy. She fished the phone out of her pocket and gave her eyes time to slowly adjust to the bright lights of her screen. It was a text sent from Carly.

_Sam, did you get home alright? Spencer could have given you a drive. Text me if you need anything. _

A few minutes passed and when she didn't respond, Carly tried again, slightly more frantic. In her hand, the phone buzzed a second time.

_Sam, are you okay? I felt bad making you leave, we just have a lot going on right now. I'm sorry. Did you get home alright?_

With a great deal of effort, she guided her fingers to the keys and typed out a response to Carly's concern.

_I'm fine, don't worry about me. Exactly where I need to be. _

She turned her phone off after that, silencing it for good. Using the sleeve of her sweater, she wiped the line of blood on her wrist and hid the fresh wound as far from sight as her clothing allowed. Even though she knew what it meant if she thought about him, thoughts of her father were the only thing that seemed to cross her mind.

He'd been gone for a while and he hadn't called or anything, but she still knew he was there. He'd always said he was just gone temporarily, that he would return and solve all of their problems but he never did. There were only so many things that you could do behind bars, after all. He wasn't a bad man, just misunderstood and desperate. Desperate and scared, kind of like she was. What would happen to her next?

The one person Sam thought that she could rely on had failed to come through when she was most needed and the only other alternative lay sleeping in 8-D, thirty-two floors below her. If there was one thing she knew it was solidarity. The sting of the wind finally bested the girl as the true chill of night began to settle in.

All at once she found herself slipping back into a cozy sleep as all of the imperfections in Sam Puckett's world were laid out before her.

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><p><strong>Dark and depressing...What did I tell you? It's the most negative piece of writing I've ever produced and I'm not too proud of it. Maybe it's just being out of practice for so long... <strong>

**Hope you enjoyed it anyway! Reviews are always appreciated and thank-you for reading!**

**Happy Writing,**

**EmilyHelene** **(:**


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